


Band of Gold

by sburbanite



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other, Sadstuck, a boy and his android, a life lived, learning to love yourself, no sburb, seriously it's sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 07:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6649084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sburbanite/pseuds/sburbanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With no game to save him, Dirk Strider has no choice but to save himself.</p><p>Life and love in a doomed timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Band of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in my fics folder and had forgotten I'd written it...so here you go!  
> It's sad as hell.

The boy dives deep, holding tight to his breath as he pulls himself below the waves. Years of practice keep his body happy with limited oxygen, his eyes protected from the salt by ancient goggles. A forest stretches up to meet him, waving fronds of kelp that could hide almost anything. Mostly, they conceal the fragile, rusted skeletons of satellite dishes. Sometimes, though, an eel as thick as his leg and as long as his body will emerge, dead-eyed and lantern-jawed. 

He gives the undersea jungle a wide berth, kicking downward and allowing the weights tied around his waist to pull him deeper. The penthouse of the building is gloomy but at only ten feet below the surface, it’s hardly dark. The place is a grotto studded with a thousand jewel-like corals, colourful mounds in the corners of the rooms suggesting sofas and beds and tables. Hundreds of species of fish swim where feet once trod; vibrant life born out of destruction. The Atlantic waters are now as warm as the ancient Caribbean, and the boy aims to make the most of the tropical buffet. He holds himself still, concentrates on keeping his heart rate slow; the snapper never sees his harpoon coming. He’s about to exit, to head up and out and calm his body’s screams for oxygen, when something shiny catches his eye. Down here, the only thing that sparkles is the occasional flash of silver scales, but this is a different colour altogether. This is the warm glow of gold, of something half-buried in the silt. He grabs it, shoves it into the bag on his weight-belt, and heads up for air. 

He can’t stay in the ocean long, floating and staring down at the outlines of buildings and streets below. He wonders whether his brother would recognise this place, if he’d know whether the low building to the north was an ice-cream parlour or a sex shop. _Probably the latter,_ he reasons, _knowing Bro’s taste in irony. The world’s richest movie director probably would choose to live in a shitty neighbourhood_. After a few minutes, he kicks lazily back to the struts supporting the apartment, climbing the latticework of girders with the harpoon slung over his back and the snapper in his mouth. Any longer in the water with a fresh kill brings the sharks, or the gulls. The sharks are scarier, but the gulls are more likely to steal his prize. Hauling himself through the window, he sets his equipment down before examining his treasure. He laughs out loud when he realizes what it is, _a motherfucking wedding ring, perfect for the last human on Earth._

Later, when his body and harpoon are purged of salt residue, the boy reads coloured messages on the inside of a pair of pointed shades. The first set are new, received while he was out fishing, blue and green words that cut pieces of him away even as he drinks them in. 

gutsyGumshoe [GG]  began pestering  timaeusTestified [TT] 

GG: Hi Dirk!   
GG: We’re flying out to get Jake today, Dad said we can take the jet since Great Grandmother doesn’t mind!  
GG: I’m so excited :B  
GG: I’m sad too, of course. I wish you and Roxy could be there with us.   
GG: I miss her so much, Dirk. You and Jake are all I have left now.  
GG: Are you sure you won’t let us come and pick you up?   
GG: Nowhere is too far for Jane Crocker, Heiress Extraordinaire! It would be no trouble since I can pretty much do whatever I like, and I quote: “as long as I don’t get in the motherglubbing way.”   
GG: You may have told Jake some nonsense about being somewhere totally inaccessible, but I know that’s absolute poppycock since your brother lives in Houston!   
GG: I’ve seen him on the TV all the time, Mr. Strider! :B  
GG: Please let me know if you change your mind. I miss you too, you know.  
GG: Anyway, we need to get up, up and away! I’ll catch up with you when we touch down on ‘Hellmurder Island’ (as you and Jake call it).   
GG: Take care, Dirk.  


gutsyGumshoe [GG]  ceased pestering  timaeusTestified [TT]   


golgothasTerror [GT]  began pestering  timaeusTestified [TT]   


GT: Hello Dirk.   
GT: I dare say you’ve heard from the lovely Ms. Crocker that Im to leave the island today.  
GT: Its quite the adventure, although I cant say Im not a little nervous. Its going to be.  
GT: Well, its going to be different.   
GT: I think ill miss this place, for all that the blasted fauna seems to be determined to snuff me out.  
GT: And Im grateful to Jane for coming all this way dont get me wrong. Its just not going to be the same without you and Roxy there to complete the gang.  
GT: Poor Roxy. And poor you too I suppose.  
GT: I wish there was some way to help you Dirk. Is there no way I can use one of the fancy doodads that are all over this island to bring you to our time?  
GT: I was hoping to meet you one day since were such incredible bros and I really couldnt wish for a better friend.  
GT: Anyway Ill be around for a chat if you want. Anytime from now on I guess since I wont have to keep dodging your blasted robot or avoid being accosted by monsters!  
GT: Bye for now.   
GT: Please get in touch Dirk. Even I get worried when you switch the bloody autoresponder off and you know what a colossal lunkhead I am about feelings and such.  
GT: I…miss you.  


golgothasTerror [GT]  ceased pestering  timaeusTestified [TT]   


The last message is almost a year old. He’s looked at it every day since he received it, re-opening the wound. He blames himself. 

tipsyGnostalgic [TG]  began pestering  timaeusTestified [TT] 

TG: im so tired dirk  
TG: i cant do this anymore  
TG: its too hard  
TT: Roxy? What’s wrong?  
TT: Are you OK?  
TG: i love you  
TG: ive always loved you  
TG: im sorry  
TG: bye dirk  
TT: Roxy, wait. Talk to me, whatever’s upsetting you we can talk about it.  
TT: Please, Rox. I’m freaking the fuck out here.  
TT: Fuck oh fuck  
TT: Roxy  
TT: Roxy!  


There’s more text after, pages and pages of orange where the boy has tried to pretend she’s still there listening, where he’s just wanted to speak to her again. The connection is still live, a fusion-powered laptop serving as a conduit for his unheeded words. Her absence is a black hole at the edge of his consciousness, sucking at his soul. Sighing, he wakes his lifeline, the only thing that keeps him from following Roxy into oblivion. 

TT: You have to stop doing this to yourself, Dirk. I know you’ve been looking at it again.  
TT: You can’t help yourself. Just like you couldn’t have helped her, either.  
TT: It wasn’t your fucking fault.  
TT: Yes, it was.  
TT: How? How was it your fault?  
TT: I know what you’re going to say, obviously, which renders this conversation completely pointless. Much as my response will be. You’ve heard all of this shit a million times over.  
TT: She loved me, AR. I couldn’t reciprocate. Something tells me that her mentioning that before she killed herself might have been fucking significant.  
TT: That’s not your fault, either.  
TT: You didn’t choose it, just like I didn’t choose to be turned on by some sweet universal serial bus action. It’s so hot when you don’t get the cable the right way up.  
TT: Are you asking to be switched off? Because I’m in no fucking mood.  
TT: It seems you’re going to spend the day moping, when we both know you’ve got vitally important shit to get done.  
TT: At least eat that fucking fish you caught.  
TT: Fine.  


In the evening, the boy takes off his shades and gently attaches them to his creation. The metal body is life-size and robustly constructed, with the only real finesse employed on the face and hands. Everything else is functional rather than elegant; the torso is a vague approximation of the boy’s own, but the arms and legs are unambiguously robotic. He’s proud of the face. The features look human enough not to be unsettling and the haircut is a copy of his own, sculpted from the sun-bleached fibres of old clothing. It looks good. The hands are something even more marvellous, dextrous and graceful. They’re his masterwork, his ultimate creation. 

Lights flicker behind the android's shades, as the red-tinted plastic is lit from behind. The glow is hazy and the boy is fairly sure that it came from a centuries-old tail-light. It was scratched beyond recognition when it floated past the apartment, but the shade of red was just too perfect to ignore. The cameras poke through the ruby surface, lenses shining with reflected light. Speakers crackle inside its chest; the sounds of AR taking control. He isn’t expecting what comes next. 

“Fuck, Dirk.” The voice is part robotic, part human. Pieces of the boy’s own voice mingle with the translation software. He hasn’t exactly provided it with a lot of material, but now that there’s a reason to speak out loud, the artificial voice will become gradually less artificial. 

“Thank you.” Even though it’s mostly a computer-voice, the boy can hear the gratitude in the statement. 

The android flexes its fingers, brings a hand up to cup its own face. 

“This is the best, bro. I kinda want to rap about how awesome it is, but I’m sensing that would be a bad idea.”

The boy nods, smiling slightly at one corner of his mouth. Although AR is every bit as fake as his other robots, for the first time in his life it's almost as if he's no longer alone. 

Almost. 


End file.
